The Cybertron Logs
by shirozora
Summary: Before Earth, there was Cybertron. Pre2007 AU. Inspired by the LJ prompts. DISCONTINUED
1. Courageous

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #1:** Courageous – _Bluestreak earns his colors._

The drone collapsed at his feet, headless. The torso broke into pieces as the body hit the ground while its bottom half, still whole, twitched, failing to obey the last impulses in its severed circuits.

Someone – he didn't know, couldn't know, couldn't see – forcibly lowered his arm, and a firm voice said, «Stand down, soldier.»

Prowl?

He kept staring straight ahead, at the Autobot troops swarming into the ruined city center, picking off the retreating Decepticon forces, until he heard someone – Ratchet? – call out, «He'll live! One more hit would've done the idiot in, but he's going to be fine. Sunstreaker, _get out of the way._»

«I'm not leaving Side-»

«Don't make me repeat myself. _Move_.»

A hulking figure was moving through the field, searching for struggling but broken drones and Decepticons, and blasting them in the face with his cannons. Shuddering, he finally looked away, and behind him to the pile of rubble he and Sunstreaker and Hound hastily stacked together into a barrier. There was Ratchet and First Aid and a few repair drones assessing the damage done to members of the unlucky squad. Sunstreaker hovered nearby, faceplates twisted in distress.

Wheeljack appeared, his left arm hanging uselessly from his side, and Ratchet stood up to berate the engineer. Wheeljack beat him to it.

«How's Jazz?»

«Didn't you hear me the first time? What did he do, lead the charge?»

«Something like that-»

«He's going to get himself killed if he doesn't stop it, and _you_, what on Cybertron were you _thinking_?»

He looked at Prowl, who seemed to be in the middle of a transmission. The lieutenant had taken a few hits – scorch marks on his dull gray armor – but didn't seem fazed by it. Then Prowl turned to him, and he stiffened, twitched.

«Congratulations,» Prowl said. «You are now classed as a sniper and a member of Jazz's black ops squad. Get yourself checked by Ratchet and if he asks, I'm with the City Commanders.»

He watched the lieutenant stride away, abruptly ending the conversation – if it could be called a conversation in the first place.

Was this battle his last test, the deciding factor in determining his place among the Autobots? And he succeeded? Oh by the Allspark-

He wobbled. Suddenly he was aware of the warnings the Spark was sending through his circuits. Remembering what Prowl told him, he staggered his way to Ratchet and First Aid, withdrawing his cannon into his armor.

The younger medical officer was finishing patching up a half-functioning Hound while Ratchet and the repair drones worked on Jazz and Sideswipe. First Aid was telling the scientist that he was going to stay here at Autobase with the City Commanders, and then dismissed Hound.

«How you feel?» First Aid asked as he began inspecting a blast mark on his left shoulder.

«Tired. Really tired. I didn't notice until after Prowl told me I was done training and that I'm a sniper now and that I'm going to be joining Jazz's team and I don't know why he's putting me on Jazz's team. I mean, it's a _black ops_ team, and that means we're going to be doing dangerous stuff, the stuff that would get anybody else killed, even Optimus Prime- why is Hound even on this team, he's a scientist and Sunstreaker kept making fun of him, saying he'd rather observe the effect of Decepticon ammo on Autobot armor instead of fighting, but I guess he's there because Wheeljack's on the team, too. So why'd Prowl put me in the team, you know what they're all like, they're all scrambled in the circuits, that's what everybody else says, and the only team even crazier is the Wreckers and Impactor thinks Jazz is his long lost brother so that means they're both crazy and I'm on a crazy team and I don't know what I'm going to do-_ow_!»

First Aid inspected the piece of shrapnel before tossing it aside.

«Maybe Prowl sees something in you that most of us don't-»

«So you think I'm not up for it either?» He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing. «I don't think I can take it. They always say I don't have the nerves, that my Spark's been messed up since the Allspark made me, and ever since the Decepticons destroyed my district I didn't think I could do what I just did a cycle ago, but it just happened, they kept coming and I kept shooting and-»

«See, you have it in you,» First Aid interrupted. «Transform your left arm. Good, it didn't hit the main gears. Now your right.» First Aid paused. «You're shaking.»

«See what I mean?» he whispered. «I just kept shooting and shooting and not just drones but Decepticons and I don't know who I hit but I think I killed them, I took them out and their Sparks died and now they're just dead bodies and they're going to be tossed into the Smelting Pools and that'll be it, that's it and I'm supposed to move on like this team does but how am I supposed to do that, I've never killed anyone before-do drones count? I don't think they count, they have no Spark, but I didn't think this would bother me, killing Decepticons, but I didn't think about it, all I thought was that I couldn't let the others die and I just kept shooting-what about you, First Aid? Is it why you won't fight?»

The medical officer looked at him with unblinking optics.

«You're going to get used to it, Bluestreak. I don't have it in me – I don't know how Ratchet can do it but I can't bring myself to kill anyone. Maybe in self defense, when I don't have a choice, but my place isn't on the field. I think you'll figure things out. Have some courage, Blue. You _did_ take down all those drones. You _did_ save Jazz and Sideswipe's lives. Isn't that something?»

Maybe.

* * *

Author's Note: This is a series of oneshots based on my fanonverse, which was drawn from the 2007 live-action movie. It is directly related to my other fanfiction.

Reviews deeply appreciated.


	2. New World

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #2:** New World – _The Dream of Cybertron._

You don't understand me.

You don't see what I've always seen. No matter how carefully I choose my words you refuse to listen, refuse to imagine, refuse to acknowledge that brightly burning _potential_ that lives inside us. You refuse to see what we can _do_.

This living, this _thriving_ potential will have the universe at our _feet_.

The Allspark created us _this_ way for a reason. I've done my research; I've had scientists sift through file after file of archived material at Nova Cronum's huge database. The evolution, the _transformation_, of the Cybertronian race _illustrated_ the Allspark's sense of purpose; eons ago the life-giving cube created thirteen non-transforming Cybertronians, the founders of the planet Cybertron, and several astrocycles ago we were, should I say, _graced_ with the presence of our first ever femme Triple-Changer, a femme with the firepower and ability of the rare mech with three alt modes.

The more files my scientists pulled out, sorted, and compiled, the clearer it became that the Allspark _wanted_ us to venture into deep space, and begin the Expansion. Our thirteen Senators are weaponless conservative archaic remnants of a time when we didn't know who we were and who we could be. When other races – more powerful, more advanced – tried to wrest the Allspark out of our grasp we fought back with the gifts the Allspark granted us, revealed to the others what we really were.

We are living weapons, with defense mechanisms and weapons systems interwoven into our skeletal structures. We could navigate deep space without need for transport ships. We could adapt to everything thrown our way, because we could disguise ourselves by transforming our very infrastructures to blend into alien environments. We could hide in plain sight, and strike when the enemy least expects it. We even have sculptors who developed their trade enhancing our natural armor, making us _invincible._

It's there, within our grasp. The ones that have watched us, fought us, and tried to conquer us – we can bring them to their _knees_. The whole of the universe lies before us. We only have to reach out and _take_ it.

But _you_, you would power off your audio processors and ignore my messages and bury yourself in the same data you used to drown yourself in as a lowly archivist. You avoid me, you avoid my report, my explanations, my reasoning, and refuse to say more than, «Sentinel Prime established the peace we needed and I intend to keep it.»

The status quo is rotting Cybertron. I've seen it myself. The southern states, especially Kaon, harbor disillusioned and angry Cybertronians. They are fighters in a world that doesn't need them. I intend to give them what they want, what they need. I intend to make them the trailblazers of a new age of Cybertron. The Allspark is all I need to begin the march for a better future. Let the other worlds cower in the face of the glory of Cybertron.

If only you could see, Brother, what I've always seen.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've never been able to accept the idea that anyone can only be evil and nothing more. There's always a reason. I also take Optimus Prime's calling Megatron "brother" literally.

Reviews deeply appreciated.


	3. If I Never Knew You

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #3**: If I Never Knew You – _Stationed at Vos._

They generated the only lights in the entirety of the city. They were perched on one of the great towers that made up the lonely metropolis, among the other high towers of Cybertron's last Golden Age, the crumbling legacy of those glory days. Few Cybertronians ventured into the once mighty Aerial city once the civil war engulfed it, for fear of collapsing buildings, scavengers, the marauding Neutrals, and the creatures of the dark, and who could blame them? Aerial Cybertronians rarely descended to ground level, and what festered in the darkness was never their concern. They lorded the skies and their buildings soared upwards with them.

But to the Autobot and Decepticon ground soldiers, Vos was a terrifying place. The only Decepticon visitors were former residents and they rarely stayed for longer than several cycles. Autobots were a rarer presence; they had no business in a district so close to the Decepticon strongholds. No Autobot ventured into the borders of Vos by himself, but no group of Autobots would come within miles.

Unless they were forcibly stationed there.

His squad members moaned and groaned all the way from the safety of Ky-Alexa to this Allspark-forsaken metaphorical hellhole, and they only shut up when they were assaulted by Neutral Aerials while scaling a tower. Vos' many skyscrapers were connected by impossibly stable arching bridges, but first one must get to the top and only two Autobots in the squad could fly.

Eventually the Neutrals flew away, either satisfied that they were no threat – and they really weren't – or bored. None of the Autobots seriously injured, they pulled themselves to the top, waited three cycles for Crosswise to double check their wounds and patch up the more severe damages, and slowly crossed the bridges from one tower to the next, until they reached the center of the city.

And there they watched, and waited. For what, they didn't know. Presumably they were there to observe any possible Decepticon activity, with "possible" being the key word. As the cycles dragged by, "possible" became _the_ word. Except for their brush with the Neutrals, they saw nothing and no one other than themselves. They were the only ones in this cold and windy world.

They resorted to long shifts, two at a time, while the others rested and recharged for their turn. This would be nothing out of the ordinary – it was protocol – if Springer hadn't decided on his own to partner up disagreeable Autobots. The others protested the idea, with Arcee, Gears, and Blades the most vocal, but he acknowledged Springer's point – that they were sent to Vos precisely because the team wasn't getting along with each other.

One had to wonder what Prowl was thinking when he first compiled the roster for this team. Was there a glitch in his circuits, or was it just one of his rare days? And who would've thought the lieutenant's idea of fostering teamwork was stationing them in a ghost city for a few megacycles, looking for Decepticons that weren't there.

So here he was, sitting at the edge of the skyscraper with his optics on the skyline. His optics strained to see the blue white haze just beyond the horizon. There was nothing of interest here to look at; they've been here for over fifty cycles, and Springer and Blades' recons informed them of all they needed to know about the city. Unable to see beyond the horizon, he tilted his head up to the winking stars.

He heard his partner shift, the fifth time in the past thirty kliks, and said, «Bored already?»

Her tone was sour. «Aren't you?»

He shrugged, having nothing to say, but she didn't move for a full cycle and a half.

His audio receptors were overly keen, picking up the faintest noise in the eerie lull. He could hear the slow shift of gears underneath the armor of the resting Autobots behind him, and the furious hum of Arcee's Spark Chamber. Underneath his swinging feet he thought he heard a howl winding around the bases of the buildings; preliminary reports and accounts from the Aerials who once lived here said that the outskirts of Vos were tame but the deeper one went in, the windier ground level became. Whether this was the result of the enormous towers or a natural occurrence nobody knew, but he was glad none of his squad members lost their footing while crossing from one tower to the next. Springer and Blades were always on standby, but even the slightest mishap was bad news, especially this far from the Autobot strongholds.

They really were alone.

He felt the building vibrate faintly, heard something banging against the ledge, and turned to the femme. «You mind?»

She glared at him but stopped swinging her legs. She muttered, «There's nothing here to notice us anyways…»

He stiffened. That was something he still wasn't used to, besides her opinion of him. She really had to stop retorting to whatever's on his _mind._

The next shift was thirty-six cycles away, a very long time. This was their fifth shift together, and as far as he could tell they were not getting along. The squad had spent a number of megacycles here now, and while Springer's suggestion seemed to patch things up between Gears and Blades – Smokescreen was quiet, Brawn was too amiable, and Crosswise and High Wire were already committed to each other before the team was formed – there was no love lost between him and Arcee.

He heard gears shift, pieces click, and he turned around again to see her disassembling the crossbow cannon that was balancing on her lap.

«Um…what are you doing?»

She paused and looked up at him. «What does it look like I'm doing?»

«Besides taking your weapon apart?»

She shrugged. «I'm cleaning it.»

And once again the conversation died.

Something in his Spark told him not to let it happen again. Wasn't that what got his squad holed up in the ghost city in the first place? Of course he could very well ignore Springer's suggestion – he did have the authority after all; this was _his_ squad – but he knew much better than that; he was the youngest of the nine Autobots and Springer was the only one who really knew her.

So why couldn't _he_ talk her into accepting him? But of course, she must be one of those types who couldn't be swayed by the voices of others. Either she convinced herself, or he made the effort. Nobody else could do it. Not even Prowl.

Like Prowl would even bother.

«How did you get that cannon?» he ventured, optics watching her meticulous movement.

She paused. «Ol' Grumps got it for me. Found it, remodeled it himself.»

«Grumps?»

«Ironhide.»

«Oh.»

Silence. He looked away, and then held out his arm, staring at the pulse cannon. He transformed it, flexed his hand, and turned back to see the femme watching him. Perplexed, he only stared back.

«Ever wonder why the Allspark made you that way?» she finally said.

A confusing question, but at least she instigated the conversation this time. He shook his head. «You?»

She studied a piece of metal in her small hands. «You mechs are lucky your weapons are built into you.»

He'd seen her lose that cannon before, in the middle of a battle outside of Autobase. She had no problem taking a Decepticon drone's detached arm and firing its built-in pulse cannon at the opposing force. As far as he could tell, Arcee had nothing to complain about.

The femme startled him when she continued talking. «I thought this was a dumb idea, especially since Springer has a shift all by himself. He's an idiot, but he's not as stupid as Hot Rod. If Hot Rod was here, he'd go down to ground level, just because he's that thickheaded.»

He heard of this "Hot Rod" before; Ironhide's friend Kup spoke highly of him. Ironhide wasn't one to dole out praise, but even the Prime's chief weapons specialist approved of the rookie's swift elevation to squad commander. And then he realized that she was treating Hot Rod with the same contempt she had for him. Was she jealous of them, young rookies who were leading their own teams?

And then he remembered the rumors in the barracks back up north, talks of southern gladiators who chose to side with the Autobots. They were a rough bunch, the rumors said, and they knew how to _kill_. All that experience, all that skill, and they were forced to tag alongside those who had no idea what they were doing, except Hot Rod was from the south, too, which made things all the more confusing.

«You're a gladiator,» he said aloud.

He turned at the sudden noise that followed, and saw her expertly reassemble her crossbow cannon. Then her hot blue optics looked up at him. «So?»

«What's it like?»

«Why do you care?»

«Why shouldn't I? I'm the commander; shouldn't I make an effort to know?»

Her retort was spoken as softly as her voice capacitor would allow it. «What do you know about me? You weren't even alive for most of it.»

She said it, as plain as the infamous grin permanently impressed in Sideswipe's faceplates. And he had no way to respond to it. He couldn't even look away. She was right; he was one of the youngest Autobots in the ranks, coming in from the northern regions of Cybertron. He knew nothing of the illegal blood sport that thrived in the southern states. He had no idea what Cybertron's Golden Age _looked_ like. Truth was, whatever he thought he was fighting for looked nothing like what the others were fighting for.

She was making a point. He didn't belong.

«…I'm sorry.»

She reacted sharply, as if he hit her. Her faceplates were perfectly blank, but her body language betrayed her wariness.

«I can't explain why the Allspark didn't create me any sooner. I can't tell you why I was raised up north, with those who eventually became the Autobots' High Command. It just _happened_. So can you please, for at least this watch, just forget that? I mean, what do you have against me?»

She straightened up, though her optics never left his. Then she turned away, latching her cannon to her back, and drew her long limbs up against her. «…nothing.»

They were silent for the rest of the shift.

He slowly rose to his feet to alert Smokescreen and Brawn of their shift, but didn't expect the femme to follow him into the tower. He gave her only a cursory glance before stalking inside, but froze when the small Autobot took a hold of his arm.

«Look, I…» He was startled when her grip on his arm tightened considerably. Sensors exclaimed at the denting armor. «I a-I'm sorry.»

_Wait, what? Did she just…_ «…what for?»

«What do you _think_?» was the snappy retort. He raised a faceplate at the response, and the series of very fast curses flying out of her voice capacitor. He recognized a great many of them, as Ironhide tended to spew them out when something went wrong.

His sensors demanded attention to his armor and he asked, «Can you let go? Your denting my-»

She released him and strode inside the tower.

«-armor.»

In two kliks, Smokescreen and Brawn staggered out, gears shifting as they roused themselves out of stasis. While Smokescreen gave him a cursory nod, Brawn stopped to address him with a rather booming, «Nothing threatening-»

«Please, Brawn, keep it down,» he cut in. «Nothing yet, but you'll never know.»

«Eh, that's what we always say,» the bulky Autobot replied in a much lower tone. «Springer's next, right?»

He nodded. Brawn turned to follow Smokescreen out to the ledge but, and he didn't know why, he blurted out, «Can I ask you something?»

«Sure.»

«The…the Autobots from the south…what happened?»

Brawn's optics flickered for a nanoklik. «Simple – down there's where the outcasts go. That's where the former Lord High Protector Megatron recruited his army. That's where the war started. Why?»

«Just…» He fine-tuned his audio processors and picked up nothing from within the tower. «Springer seems fine, but Arcee…she's always so _angry_.»

«They were both sent south for the same reason,» Smokescreen said, appearing silently next to Brawn. «They're more prone to violence than the rest of us…except Blades, of course.»

Their communications expert then walked out of the conversation. Brawn shrugged. «He's right, you know. We're just lucky we have Springer, _and_ Arcee. If we never knew them, we wouldn't have lasted as long as we did.»

Brawn turned and followed his partner out to the ledge for their watch.

The gears under his armor shifted, sighed. Brawn and Smokescreen were right, of course. They were all right. The Autobots from the south had no inhibitions when it came to violence, and that was the reason why Prowl took great care in including at least one in each team roster. That was why Ironhide was part of the High Command. That was why both Inferno and the Dynobots were located at Autobase. That was why Hot Rod, a non-gladiator, headed his own squad. That was why the noble Silverbolt included a few southern Aerials in his elite team.

And that was why he felt more excluded than ever from his squad members.

His body began gearing down as he walked into the darkness of the spacious round room, taking care to avoid stepping on a fellow Autobot or stumbling down a flight of stairs somewhere next to the wall. Apparently the Aerials did spend some time on their feet. Where the spiraling staircase went none of them knew; the way was blocked off by rubble.

He settled down in a metaphorical corner, waiting for his body to enter stasis, when he noticed electric blue optics burning through the darkness at him.

«You're not in stasis,» Bumblebee said softly, stopping the shutdown momentarily.

The pair of optics tilted to the side, and then straightened.

«…if I…» Arcee said hesitantly, «…if I never knew you…things would have been very different.»

Then his optics were the only ones burning in the darkness.

* * *

Author's Note: It was insinuated in the prequel graphic novel to the 2007 movie that Bumblebee was the leader of a team of Autobots, so I took the idea and ran with it.

Reviews deeply appreciated.


	4. Pirates

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #4**: Pirates – _Raiders of Ky-Alexia._

Frenzy thought itself a genius of the highest order until Rumble told it to shut up.

«You didn't come up with the idea, I did! Not even your precious Ravage could figure it out!»

The two small neutrals began brawling among the stacked ammunition until Laserbeak landed on them and pulled Frenzy off the bulky neutral.

«We finish the job _now_.»

The four Decepticons dodged oblivious Autobot troopers and cameras and sensors as they bounded down hallways, seeking the Command Center. Buzzsaw kept them updated with the map (Double) Dealer provided them.

«Where's the damn place? I'm going crazy!» Frenzy chattered angrily as they ventured deeper into the Autobot stronghold. «Dealer better not be lying, or Barricade will have his head!»

At a checkpoint, Rumble and Laserbeak broke off and darted away.

By the time Frenzy and Buzzsaw reached the heart of Ky-Alexia, whoever was manning the controls was gone, answering the alarms blasting from every hall in the base.

Buzzsaw went after the surveillance monitors while Frenzy, the preeminent hacker in the Decepticon ranks, began searching for data files.

«Stop fooling, Frenzy! We don't have time to program glitches!»

But Frenzy couldn't resist. Its spindly fingers finished typing out the last code when an Autobot stormed in, its shoulder launchers glowing red-hot.

«Oh sla-»

* * *

Author's Note: I classify the likes of Frenzy and Scorponok under the term "neutral" which means, among other things, that they are genderless to us. To the other Cybertronians…I have no idea.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	5. Don't Fail Me Now

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #5**: Don't Fail Me Now – _Crossing the line._

He was never one to run from a battle. Not that he was particularly brave, but it never seemed to be an option for him. He had been on the losing side more than once, but he never left the field before the battle was over.

His mentor didn't believe in it anyways, and she made sure he understood it.

But Bumblebee wasn't a dumb Cybertronian, not by a long shot. He didn't think himself to be precocious, although others have called him that, but he knew immediately that the Autobots were going to lose the fight outside of Altihex. The sheer number of drones was one thing, but there were more than enough elite Decepticons in the field, including Soundwave, Bonecrusher, and Blitzwing.

He gave his team a simple order. «If you feel the battle's giving way, fall back.»

Eighteen and a half grueling cycles later, he was dodging bolts of energy and laser as he picked his way across the apocalyptic landscape in front of Altihex. The evasive maneuvers were all reflexive; he didn't give a second thought about the drones firing on him as he made his way towards the retreating Autobot forces and the safety of their stronghold.

_:I've got your back, Bee.:_

Springer roared overhead in his Aerial alt mode, picking off the drones while Bumblebee jumped and slid through the field of battle. Blades quickly followed, but their cover fire wasn't enough. The drones kept coming.

An energy bolt hit his left leg, and Bumblebee dove behind a large slab of a former structure, curling his body around the wounded Autobot in his arms. The drones pounded at the metal barrier but he couldn't move until he had a minimally functional leg again, so he remained hiding and pushing his body to make the repairs and cursing his subordinate for being so incredibly _stupid_.

«-rusted piece of _scrap_, nobody told you to go looking for them! The order was to pick off the drones and leave the Decepticons alone! What on Cybertron were you thinking? Not even Blades is that stupid-»

«_Don't_ compare me to Blades. We're nothing alike-»

«No, of course not! You're even worse! Do you have _any_ idea how a team works? Or did Ironhide teach you to be a-»

The top half of the metal barrier blew apart and he bent over the Autobot, tensing as shrapnel hit his armor.

«Don't you go insulting him, and I knocked Blitzwing out, didn't I?»

«Shut up! You call that an accomplishment? It's not worth it if you die, idiot! You corroded junk-»

«You know, I _like_ this side of you. You should start shouting at us more oft-»

Arcee hissed as a blue spark fell out of her cracked Spark Chamber.

«Damn you and _shut up_,» Bumblebee snapped. «You are unbelievable.»

He rose to his feet, and staggered as his left leg buckled. A small shower of sparks hit the ground as the femme cried out and curled against his chest. Her optics began flickering, and he realized that they had to go _now_, leg or no leg, before he loses her.

_:Springer and Blades, fall back.:_

_:No way, Bumblebee. Not when my friend's involved.:_

_:I was just getting started.:_

But it was nobody's imagination that the gunfire from the drones had increased dramatically. The Decepticon forces were advancing on Altihex, rapidly.

Bumblebee did the next best thing he could think of. He looked up at the circling Aerial Autobots. «Springer, take Arcee and get out of here. Blades, don't even think about trying to outmaneuver them. Get back to Altihex.»

«_What_?» Blades was outraged. «I'm not falling back, not while these _drones_ keep shooting at us-»

«Blades, cover me!» Springer descended rapidly and transformed as he landed in front of Bumblebee and Arcee. «And what are you going to do, Bee? Thinking about playing hero?»

«I'd like to see Blades try and carry me off,» Bumblebee retorted as he handed the femme over to Springer. «Just take her and leave. I'll buy you two some time.»

«Hey now-»

«Did you hear me? Go; get out of here. You hear that, Blades?»

«Loud and clear, boss. Damn…»

Springer carefully half-transformed into his Aerial alt mode. As he slowly rose into the air with his charge he said, «You'd better be around after I hand Arcee over to Crosswise. I don't want to tell Ratchet what on Cybertron happened down here-»

«_What_? _I _don't get a say in this -»

«Arcee, shut up, you're in no condition to do or say anything. If I don't get back, tell Prowl you're in charge. Don't fail me now, Springer. You hear me?»

Once he was sure his teammates were out of range, Bumblebee transformed his right forearm and pressed his body against the metal slab, waiting for a break in the assault. There was a momentary pause, he eased the muzzle of his cannon out into the clear, and opened fire.

* * *

Author's Note: I imagine drones – mindless robots, literally – to form the backbone of the Decepticons, aka the combination of the actual Decepticons and their drones would make one formidable army.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	6. Wings

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #6**: Wings – _He'd fly away if he had the chance._

Unlike the Autobots, he had no stories to tell. Unlike the Decepticons, he had nothing to boast about. He couldn't even match up to the Neutrals, whose vocal processors dripped hatred for the warring factions and the civil war that was tearing apart their planet.

If he could, he'd leave it all behind.

He wasn't meant for this. He wasn't made for this. He wasn't created to deal with what was facing him. He wasn't even there when it all began. He was on the other side of the planet, the Wastelands, and far from everybody else because the head scientist of the RSO's Nova Cronum branch refused to give him permission to traverse the Forbidden Zone.

Had he been allowed to investigate _just_ the outskirts of the Forbidden Zone he would have been there when the civil war erupted. He would have been there to see Cybertron fall apart. He would have been there to see Nova Cronum, his home for astro-cycles, burst into flames and collapse into ruins. He would have been there when the Cybertronians were forced to choose between the two brothers who once ruled together so peacefully.

He would have been there to watch his closest friend – _a friend, you say?_ – give in to the violence, the hungry _unnatural_ desire to wage war and conquer.

Jetfire had never been to a battlefield. He had never been under fire. From cycle one of his admittance to the ranks of the Autobots he steadfastly refused to join a team and participate. He holed himself up in his labs in the basement of the Decagon next to an eccentric engineer, researching for _war_.

It wasn't that he was a coward. He didn't want to think about it. He _did _have to face down a Swarm pod while traversing the dangerous terrain of the Wastelands. He escaped with no more than a dent, a proof of his weapons system's efficiency, but no, he refused to let the Autobots use him to fight. He was not a pacifist – he could've declared himself Neutral and fled the planet, and the temptation was so real – but he would not reveal his one great weakness, the fatal failure in his infrastructure, his type, and the only thing that kept him grounded in the lab.

Aerial Cybertronians are fearless flyers. They have to be. On ground the footing is firm, steady, permanent, and limited. The skies above are endless, open spaces, and forever subject to one's daring. That's what other Aerials say, when he carefully asks them what it's like to _really_ fly.

Only two Cybertronians knew about his acrophobia, and only one ever pushed him to the limits of his self-confidence and sanity trying to free him from it.

Silverbolt thought it was best for Jetfire if Prowl understood why he refused to fight.

Starscream gave him the decoder he needed to access forbidden files, and then attacked him.

Now the world he thought he was finally beginning to understand broke into a million pieces. The other Autobots learned that he feared flying, and some spoke of him in contempt for the wasted ability. When turned on by his closest and dearest companion in the old ruins of Nova Cronum – they used to work side by side in one of the great observatory towers – he found it in himself to fly and fight back, horrified as he was by the finality of the betrayal. The decoder that released Thunderwing's research files carried a virus that tried to disable the Decagon's mainframe.

And now he sat in one of the oversized holding cells, accused of committing treason, and wondered if there was any justice in the world. _Of course not_, the scientist deep in his Spark scoffed. _Sentient beings like to think there's justice, but the world isn't fair. The universe isn't fair. Life isn't fair. Nothing is fair. Everything you see is a product of chance, of the random hand of - ironically – fate. _

But he still had with him the decoder, and Thunderwing's files. He had been ordered to discover what Thunderwing had been researching ceaselessly in the megacycles before the war, and he was now one of only two Cybertronians who knew what was being studied. Perhaps Prowl thought they held information for the Decepticons. Curious, though, that the Decepticon left it in the databases at Iacon before defecting to Megatron's side. But Jetfire spent the cycles in the cell analyzing the data, and suddenly it was so _clear_. This had nothing to do with the Decepticons, or the Autobots. There were things at play in the universe that they had no control over. They had no _idea_, no _awareness_ of the greater powers at play, the grand motion of things.

But in an unfair world he had to abide by the rules, and that meant nobody was going to know what Thunderwing was looking at, what he was looking _for_. As soon as his name was cleared, Jetfire was leaving.

He had wings now, and he was unafraid to use them.

* * *

Author's Note: I chose to change certain character traits for…_creative_ reasons. You would not want to forget this particular oneshot.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	7. Naïve

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #7:** Naïve – _Everyone's an enemy, no one's a friend._

He wanted to _crush_ the Cybertronian tending to his nonfunctional left arm, but that would bury him in more trouble than he desired. Instead he glowered at the medic, counting down the breems, until Mixmaster proclaimed his arm functional and scurried away.

He didn't stick around. No self-respecting Decepticon stayed in the (temporary) medical/repair bay to watch the medics and drones tending to the groaning and thrashing Cybertronians. There was always something better to do.

In his case, there was something to _mull _over, if that was the best way to describe it. For Barricade, there was no such thing as _mulling_. He contemplated his next step in the grand scheme of things.

That included questioning his place in the ranks.

«_Finally_!» Frenzy exclaimed as Barricade picked his way through the debris cluttering the hallway leading to an intact lobby. The small neutral left Ravage and Rumble in a hurry, scampering up the Decepticon's leg, around his chest, and onto his shoulder. «I was waiting for kliks and breems and cycles and-»

«Shut up. We need to talk,» Barricade replied curtly, and carried his companion out of the lobby through another hallway. The wall on his left had caved in from a massive concentration of firepower, and he picked his way over the rubble through the gaping hole outside. There, drones were collecting and piling bodies, and a few Decepticons were sifting through them, stripping armor and other potentially useful parts. A few Aerials made a wide circle overhead before streaking away in an unbroken line.

Frenzy crawled over his head to his other shoulder as Barricade searched for a secluded area to talk. It wasn't hard to find that specified place; the salvaging party had just begun sorting through the aftermath, and most of it was by the walls. Deep inside Ky-Alexia, there was only him, and Frenzy, and dead Autobots.

«Where are we going?»

«Away from them.»

«Why?»

«Because I don't want anyone else around when I question you.»

«An interrogation? Is that necessary? I didn't screw up. Did I screw up? I don't think so. I got the job done, right? Dealer didn't screw up, did he?»

«No. We're not talking about you, or Dealer.»

«Oh…then what are we talking about? You? I don't see the reason why-»

«Because we're not talking about me, either!» At a suitable location – he couldn't tell; it all looked like destruction to him – he hunkered down on a chunk of metal to let his legs finish self-repair, and Frenzy jumped off and hopped up onto a piece of a support beam. The little neutral turned its optics to Barricade.

«What are you brooding about?»

«Starscream.»

«Why?»

«Because he was promoted to Third Lieutenant for _my work_.» His voice capacitor ground out the words. «That's what I heard while Mixmaster looked at my arm. How Starscream valiantly pushed through the wall with all the Autobot sharpshooters firing at him. How he singlehandedly took them all out before they could kill the others. How the infiltration was _his_ plan, and not _mine_.»

Frenzy tilted its head to one side. «That? You're angry over _that_?»

«Yes, I'm angry over _that_! How does that lying, cheating, conniving junk on jets and flight stabilizers take all the credit, all the praise for what _I_ put my Spark on the line for?»

«Then you shouldn't have told him, right?»

Barricade narrowed his glowering optics. «What are you getting at?»

«If you want credit for anything, keep it to yourself, or tell it to the ones you can trust. How can it be that hard to get?»

«I didn't think others would be so cutthroat about promotions,» Barricade muttered, flexing his long fingers. Three of them were dented from when a particularly hefty Autobot stepped on them. «I didn't think they'd turn on their own just because they wanted power.»

«Then why'd you join the Decepticons?»

«Because it's better than the Autobots,» was the quick answer. «Because…being a Decepticon gives you freedom.»

«Better than others. They don't have reasons. They think Megatron is great. They want power. Greatness and power. If you gain power, you can have all the freedom you want.»

Of course. It was that simple. That easy. That obvious.

Frenzy was suddenly in his face. The neutral said, very carefully, «I'll help you get that power. Maybe not as great as Megatron, but close enough. Maybe not as great as Shockwave, but we don't have to be that smart, that calculating. Maybe not as great as Soundwave, but we don't need that level of loyalty, we don't need to be so boring. And good Decepticons don't always lie, or cheat, or steal. The other neutrals like you. Ravage likes you. We can start from there, and fight our way to the top. Isn't that what we did, in the arenas? Those Autobots, they always hide behind grand laws and fake words. We Decepticons fight it out, and may be best Cybertronian _win_.»

* * *

Author's Note: I had no idea Frenzy could be that smart.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	8. In a Good Mood

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #8:** In a Good Mood – _Optimism is not part of the job._

Where was that infernal _whistling_ coming from?

Shaky concentration gave way to suppressed annoyance and then to controlled frustration and Prowl finally slammed his hands down on the touch screen, and stormed out of his office to confront the glitch.

Ah, the new CSF recruit. Some said he was a bit too cheerful for the Security Force. This explained quite a bit.

The short Cybertronian looked up at him, and gave him a jaunty salute.

«Good to see you, chief!»

Prowl could only stare as the brazen detective strolled down the hall, whistling some mysterious melody that-it was a tune originating in Protihex, the databases told him, and that was Detective Jazz.

* * *

Author's Note: Decided to have some fun with this prompt. Character development for the win!

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	9. Why Do We Keep Doing This?

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #9:** Why Do We Keep Doing This? – _Standing right in front of me._

When did it begin?

For the longest time, animosity.

Indifference.

Acknowledgement.

Acceptance.

Teammates.

And now she's sitting on the medic's table, legs swinging, trying her damned hardest to look away while he meticulously welded her armor back onto her light (and at times, disadvantageous) frame. She wanted so much to focus on her scrambling circuits as they tried to reassess the uneasy intrusion on her arm (her body needed to accept the reattached armor) but her audio processors kept picking up the hum of a foreign Spark in its chamber, and she couldn't help but acknowledge that he's right _there_.

«Ratchet could've done this in half the time,» she grumbled, or _tried_ to. Her damn vocal processors were noticeably unsteady. Well, _she_ noticed. «Crosswise, too-»

«I'd rather not explain this to Ratchet, and Crosswise wouldn't know what to do. Now stop moving; you're shaking.»

«Doesn't help when you're melting parts onto my arm. And why wouldn't Crosswise know what to do? He's the medic, not you.»

«Because he isn't qualified to work with Cybertronian armor. Hold still.»

«I _am_. Why isn't he qualified? He's supposed to be the medic. And what makes _you_ qualified?»

«Easy-»

She hissed as a bright spark from the welder touched one of the exposed circuits.

-Ratchet taught me.»

«Some confidence booster.»

Bumblebee stopped for a moment and looked at her. «Why do you keep doing that?»

«Doing what?»

«Getting defensive. Like you have something to prove. Am I…am I doing something wrong?»

What? She wasn't being defensive here, and there was nothing to prove. She was just asking questions, like why her commander was the one patching her up and not Crosswise. Did she really sound like that?

«No,» she said. «Just…just get on with it.»

Curious blue optics looked up at her before swiveling down to the arm in his grip.

«Next time you try to take me down,» he said as he slid his battle mask into place and knelt on the floor to get a better look on the arm, «don't try to rip out my Spark Chamber with just your arms. You know I'm physically much stronger than you.»

«Didn't hurt to try,» was the curt reply. She meant it, too. He said not to hold back, and this was the price he had to pay. Her optics focused on his chest, where the armor protecting his Spark Chamber was violently punched and pulled out of shape. «How are you going to explain _that_?»

He hesitated. Dying sparks fell on the cold floor and skittered before fading into thin air. He looked up at her, a finger pushing up one side of his battle mask to reveal a glowing blue optic.

«It was a freak accident. He'll yell at me, maybe throw things at me, but he'll fix it. Besides, if he loses his temper like he does with the twins, Wheeljack will be there to stop him. But I doubt Ratchet will get very far in the first place. I'm not exactly Sideswipe, running around with a mine in my hands.»

«Oh yeah, that…»

It was a beautiful thing, watching Sunstreaker and Sideswipe squealing and skidding down the hallway in their alt modes, followed by a smoking Ratchet on foot, hurling tools and insults that not even Grumps would use.

«You'd think they'd know better, but they never learn,» she muttered, optics staring at the wall across the room as she tried to savor the moment.

Then quite suddenly Bumblebee rose to his feet, his battle mask retracting from his face. «Done.»

Arcee stared at him. He didn't let go of her arm.

She had no idea which way to go about it. She was so very tempted to say, «About time, too,» but her Spark very shakily wanted her to tell him, «Thank you,» and completely and utterly ruin her image. She didn't even know _why_ she should be so confused. There was no reason to keep stalling over something so trivial, no reason at all.

And what about him? Why was her commander stalling?

They weren't thinking about the same thing, were they?

Oh, by the Allspark, no, please no. Her image had already taken a beating down at the training grounds. She couldn't afford to lose it all here. One of them was going to have to give in, sooner or later, even though there was no contest and they weren't competing against each other. But she couldn't look away and he wouldn't release her arm.

But then he did, and he stepped back from the table. Warily, Arcee jumped down to the floor and waited for him to say something. Then she turned and slowly walked out of the medical/repair bay, trying her best to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong, that all that happened was she and her commander tried to beat each other to death during a training exercise and he offered to patch up her mangled arm. But she couldn't walk with the same stalking stride nor keep her head up and forward.

Down the hall she heard Ratchet explode.

«Bumblebee, _what_ on _Cybertron_ happened to _you_?»

* * *

Author's Note: I like to think that sometimes the little things epic stories don't spend time on are the best things.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	10. The Curtain Falls

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #10:** The Curtain Falls – _Too fast, too late._

He realized he had spent too much time in Kaon when he couldn't convince his younger brother that his vision for Cybertron was the right one. He thought Ultra Magnus would listen to the older sibling, the one the Allspark created mere nanokliks before the others, but clearly it had gone into his Spark that Optimus' rather mundane course of rule was for the best of Cybertron.

The best? The Golden Age was over and Cybertron was a rusting, stagnant mess. He'd seen it with his own optics, when he ventured through the dank underground passageways to the arenas. Down south he found a world of decay, and a toughened lot of Cybertronians who didn't think anyone from up north would give a damn about them.

So the question was, he thought to himself as Cybertronians gave him a wide berth while he walked, did _he_ give a damn about them?

He looked to his right and then his left, studying the rowdy crowd as he made his way to his customary seat. Did he care for their plight, their lots in life, or did he just want them for their aggressive nature and potential as superior soldiers of war?

Already things were in motion. Soundwave, loyal lieutenant from their cycles in the CSF, had been selecting the best from the population of rejects. Shockwave, the calculating top scientist from the Research & Studies Organization, promised technology of war; so far he was the only one who saw what Megatron had seen for the Allspark, Cybertron, and their race. And then a presumptuous Aerial, a little-known CSF lieutenant, boldly approached him with a promise of air superiority, and so Starscream became a member of the newborn quartet.

Megatron still needed to decide how to let the rest of Cybertron know of his plans for the Allspark. The only Cybertronians who were aware of the extent of his plans were himself, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Senator Xeon. He couldn't afford to let Starscream or anybody else in on the plans, lest they turn and report to Optimus and the Premier Senator Gravitas.

«Lord High Protector Megatron, we have obtained the floor plans of Nova Cronum,» Soundwave reported. «Although security is light, the scientists should not be underestimated.»

«Find Shockwave and have him help you pick the best Cybertronians for the job.»

«Lord High Protector Megatron, may I suggest Barricade and-»

«We already agreed on his mission. Either send Ravage or one of your neutrals for recon.» Megatron pointed a long finger at the center of the arena before him. «Who is that?»

«Ramjet, Lord High Protector Megatron.»

The one problem with Soundwave was his overly formal tendencies. Megatron told the lieutenant enough times to stop including his entire title and-

He sensed a familiar Spark moving through the masses before and below him, and his optics skimmed through the audience. He felt his Spark shrink within its chamber as he sought to read the foreign signature; a sensation of dread slowly creeping outwards from his Spark Chamber made him aware of who else was watching Ramjet beat the faceplates off of his opponent in the arena.

«Soundwave,» he said quietly.

«Lord High-»

«How fast can you find all the floor plans?»

«Not for another megacycle or two.»

«Fifteen cycles.»

«Lord High-»

«We've lost time.»

«We haven't secured the loyalty of all the Cybertronians here-»

«There is no time. We've been found out. Move quickly, and quietly. We have one chance, just one chance to get things done _right_. Dismissed.»

«Very well, Lord High-»

«Just _go_.»

His audio receptors picked up the sound of Soundwave leaving, clicking to his neutrals Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, but his optics were trained on the broad shoulders of his brother's friend Ironhide pushing through the audience below, trying to get a closer look at the two combatants on the stage.

_Optimus, you are such a fool. I may have to strike sooner than I expected, but you won't stop me from taking the Allspark and conquering the universe. Just watch, _Brother.

* * *

Author's Note: I admit that when I first finished this I didn't like it at all. Now, I think I do like it.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	11. Pins and Needles

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #11:** Pins and Needles – _And yet they were perfect for each other._

Cybertronians are not an indestructible race, although some like to think so.

That was Ratchet's mantra. He always repeated it, or a similar phrase, until his mind was numbed so that he could repair the brash idiot who tried to siphon pure energy from the Allspark without bashing him into bits. Then there was the time several CSF officers tried to play tag in the Iacon skies and two of them didn't turn away fast enough to avoid crashing into each other. More than once he was met with a Cybertronian with missing limbs and pitted armor, and the only explanation for such violent damage was, «I was just trying to see why the others said it's not a good idea to do it.»

Long before the civil war began Ratchet was already developing a temper.

* * *

The first time they met wasn't pleasant. Ratchet had been referred to for the scientist's self-induced injures, "self-induced" because the Cybertronian had the gall to purposely throw together two volatile chemicals just to see what would happen.

He spent breem after breem ranting and raving at the mute scientist as he delicately plucked out the shrapnel surrounding the mech's voice capacitor, and the juxtaposition of irrational words and precise movements would have been amusing if Ratchet didn't tell his patient that he wasn't sure how damaged the capacitor was.

«Next time you come back in here because you decided to blow things up for fun, by the Allspark I'll kick your aft all the way to Kolkular!»

* * *

The next time the scientist – engineer was his correct station at Nova Cronum – appeared in Ratchet's repair shop he was holding his left arm.

«Slag it, what the hell do you do there?» he demanded as he tested his welder. His faceplates frowned at the lack of sparks; the tool was malfunctioning when he needed it most.

The engineer gestured with his right hand. «Give it.»

«Why? What are you gonna do with it?»

He handed it over to the engineer anyways, who set it on the table and carefully flipped open its side. Optics narrowed, Ratchet watched the Cybertronian do _something _to the wiring inside it. Then the mech closed it and held the welder up. Fresh fiery sparks spouted from its nozzle and he handed it back to Ratchet.

«You sure you need this arm? You seem to work with one arm just fine.»

* * *

The engineer showed up again, helped along by a drone and clutching two things in his hands – his lower right leg and a gleaming new welder.

«What, you think my welder is junk?» Ratchet snorted once the drone left the room.

«No, this is a gift for putting up with me. Also, can you reattach my leg?»

Ratchet sighed.

«So what do you do?»

«Not much. It's been very slow at Nova Cronum.»

«Hmph.»

«I was sent there near the end of Nova Prime's reign.»

«Really now? What was _that_ like? I heard a lot about Senator Jhiaxus turning the place into a weapons factory.»

«I went there because one of their best engineers was going with Nova Prime. They told me to build stuff, so I did. Armor, upgraded weapons systems, the _Ark I_…»

«_You_ built the _Ark I_?»

«Nobody knows outside of Nova Cronum.»

Ratchet shook his head. «So how does someone with that level of skill blow himself up every other megacycle?»

«It's fun-»

«_Fun_? You _slagger_, blowing off limbs isn't fun! You nearly lost your head, remember?»

«You still remember?»

«I remember a lot of things.»

* * *

«Your friend?»

«Yes.»

«How'd you meet him?»

«They brought him over to me once.»

«What did he do?»

«Well they said he was working overtime and fell into stasis. Knocked over one of the database towers. He was a damn mess, and the tower was destroyed.»

They watched Premier Senator Gravitas talking with the very distraught archivist, Optronix, and then turned and walked out of the Stellar Galleries.

«You want to come with me back to Nova Cronum?»

«_What_? Why would I do _that_?»

Wheeljack flexed his right hand. «Might need you the next time I try to distill Allspark energy…_and_ the Allspark only knows how useful a medic of your talents would be to the bunch of absentminded scientists there…»

* * *

«_You_!»

«Yes?»

«You! You-you-you-you-I can't believe you!» Ratchet threw his hands up in the air, and stormed out of the lab.

Smug, Wheeljack turned around to address Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. «He'll get over it. Since he did show me how to repair myself, how about I try to fix you two up?»

Several cycles later Ratchet was forced to return and save Wheeljack from Sunstreaker's murderous clutches, and then repair the twins himself.

* * *

_Wa-pang!_

«Ow! _What?_»

«I don't know how I keep myself from shutting you down!» Ratchet snapped, dragging Wheeljack into the repair bay and picking up his heavy-duty welder in the process. «What on Cybertron gave you the idea to try that when Optimus and Megatron were visiting?»

«They were?»

«Who do you think was standing outside your lab, watching that green smoke pour out the doors?»

«If you recall, I was blinded for a few kliks-»

_Wa-pang!_

«_That's_ for being stupid.»

«You made it quite clear halfway through the secondary observatory-»

_Wa-pang!_

«And _that's_ for making me-»

«Would you at least stop _hitting_ me-»

_Wa-pang!_

«_No_! I won't stop until I get it through that thick head of yours that I'm sick and tired of coming out of stasis every several megacycles wondering what new injury you're going to inflict on yourself!»

By the Allspark! If only he could read the expression on Wheeljack's faceplates; the faceguard protecting the exposed wiring was a poor replacement in such a situation.

«Next time Ironhide sends you something from his plant, I'm going through it before you touch it!»

* * *

«…what was that?»

«What do you think?» the engineer said as he paced around his quarters.

Ratchet groaned and decided to lie back down on the floor. The disorienting sensations hadn't left him yet. «I have to admit…I've never done that before.»

«I'm not surprised.»

«What does _that_ mean?»

«Your temper isn't the most appealing, but I think that's why everybody here tolerates you…and why I like you.»

His Spark jumped. Ratchet quickly sat up and stared at Wheeljack. «You're not kidding.»

«Well, no. I've gotten enough complaints from my fellow scientists about your terrible manners-»

«No, the other thing, what you just said before that.»

«What about it?»

«You _like_ me?» This was something so out of his league that Ratchet could only echo what was already said.

Wheeljack was puzzled.

«Then what did we just do?»

* * *

«How's the little one?» Optimus asked while pacing in his office.

Ratchet and Wheeljack looked at each other. The engineer was the first to speak. «He's quite precocious. Learns as fast as I can teach him.»

«If teaching him to blow his face off is being precocious,» Ratchet snorted. «He's fine, Optimus. In fact, he's been fine since you handed him over to us two astro-cycles ago. You know this already.»

«I know, I know…»

The short CSF lieutenant in the corner of the room made a slight noise as he shifted in his seat. «Prime's been talking with Gravitas-»

«That's _Senator_ Gravitas to you-» Prowl started.

«_Premier_ Senator Gravitas,» Jazz fired back. «I know what I'm saying. It's just that you two have _way_ too much interest in Bumblebee and those other four new ones. Gravitas just asked me two megacycles ago if Barricade was causing trouble in Uraya again. And before that he was asking Chromia about Flareup. Then there's the twins' buddy Bluestreak, and I _just_ managed to track Thunder-»

A red light started flashing on Optimus' desk. The Prime's optics narrowed intensely as he pressed switch next to the light. «What did you find, Blaster?»

«Jazz was right, Optimus Prime. Lord High Protector Megatron _has_ been planning to take the Allspark, and he's going to use the Cybertronians down in Kaon to help him do it.»

The intercom beeped, the light stopped flashing, and all the Cybertronians in the room stared at the lifeless device before looking up at each other. The silence seemed to pulse with the dread in each of their Sparks.

Then, after a few seconds of trying to pretend Megatron really wasn't trying to begin an insurrection, disorder broke out.

«Isn't Ironhide down there-»

«Someone contact him. He might have noticed something-»

«Megatron can't be serious. Why on Cybertron would he-»

«Optimus Pr-I'll order the CSF to track him down right-»

«_Whoa!_ Hold up, chief!» Jazz held up his four-fingered hand. His other hand was pressed against the side of his head. «…uh, there's a problem.»

«What?»

«Well…we _were_ already trying to reach him – and by 'him' I mean Ironhide - before you guys called me up here, but he's been unresponsive, and we just figured out why. By the Allspark, half of Cybertron's under attack-»

«_What_?» Prowl interrupted. «_Why_ wasn't I told of this earlier-»

«No, no, it just happened before Blaster called in. Thing is, they hit Ironhide's hazardous materials treatment plant first. That's why my guys couldn't reach-»

«Who's '_they'_?» Ratchet demanded.

«Megatron's army.»

* * *

Wheeljack was in his lab building a guided missile prototype for eleven cycles before he realized that his shadow was missing. Puzzled, he made his way out of the lab and upstairs to Ratchet's medical/repair bay.

«_What_?» the medic asked sourly, annoyed that he was being interrupted while training Grimlock's Swoop.

«Where's Bumblebee? He's not here.»

«Didn't you know? Elita-1 decided now was a good time to start training him. Took him a megacycle ago. By the Allspark, Jack, pay attention!»

Wheeljack thought it was a joke. But the look Ratchet leveled on him, with the unblinking optics and the stiff faceplates, said otherwise.

«Prime save his Spark.»

«Yup. He's gonna need it.»

* * *

If he didn't know any better, Ratchet was set on murdering a whole medical/repair bay full of Autobots.

«Hang on a klik, Ratchet,» he said, grabbing the medical officer's forearm before he turned a corner.

«Let. Me. Go.» He shook at the grip but the engineer held on.

«You're not going in there in your condition. Let the drones clean them up first. We need to talk.»

Ratchet's shoulders sagged, and he looked over one at Wheeljack. «There's nothing to talk about.»

«Yes, there is.»

«About _what_, huh?» Temper flaring again, Ratchet yanked his arm away and turned around. «Optimus is sending him to his death and we've got no say in any of it! What am I supposed to say?»

«You could wish him good luck, and hope he makes it back from Tyger Pax in one piece.»

* * *

«This is it.»

«Yeah, it is.»

«You think you'll come back?»

«Of course. Where would I be without you?»

They shook each other's hand, held each other close.

«If you don't, I'll come looking. I guarantee it.»

They let go, and Ratchet walked up the ramp into the _Ark II_.

* * *

Author's Note: I really like this one. It was a lot of fun.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.


	12. On Top

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #12:** On Top – _The catcalls really need to stop._

A real leader would accept that one or more of his subordinates were far superior in combat. Being the better combatant wasn't what made one a leader, anyways. But something had to be said when one of those subordinates always gained the upper hand in combat practice, in plain view of the rest of the army.

Yes, he decided as he stared up the battered muzzle of his opponent's crossbow cannon, something definitely had to be said.

Cheers reverberated around the enclosed area as Arcee rose to her feet and swung the cannon muzzle away. He had to wait until she stepped off his chest before he could sit up; as he did, he watched the larger mechs and a number of femmes applauding and clapping their hands on her shoulders as she walked out of the large room.

«You ever gonna win?» Jazz asked in amusement as Bumblebee climbed to his feet. He looked down at his superior and shrugged.

«I've won…twice.»

«If you _tried_ to win, you might make it three times and stop losing face.»

Bumblebee studied the lieutenant suspiciously. «Are you suggesting something?»

«Well I'm just saying – she's small and fast, but you've got the firepower and brute strength. You should take a few lessons from Sunstreaker.»

«Are you saying Elita-1 didn't teach me anything?»

«No, and, uh, don't tell her I said that. But she's a femme, and you're obviously not. You got to play to your strengths, Bee.»

«Yeah, I know.» He turned to leave with the rest of the impromptu audience.

«So…you're really not trying to win, are you?»

His Spark twitched, and somehow Jazz picked up on it. With a knowing chuckle, the lieutenant said, «Maybe if you actually beat her, she'd warm up to you.»

To his credit, Bumblebee didn't overreact to the subtle suggestion. Instead he said evenly, «I told you, I already beat her twice.»

He walked down the hall, presumably to Ratchet, and just missed Jazz's quiet comment.

«So you _do_ know what you're doing. I'm impressed.»

* * *

A lull on the war front made for clashing tempers and an overabundance of restless energy in the barracks, and whenever a sparring match was set up down at the training grounds, a huge crowd was guaranteed to show up.

They were treated to Springer's eventual victory over Bulkhead and loudly approved of it, but what they were looking forward to the most was the twelfth match between squad commander Bumblebee and his subordinate Arcee, and not because the outcome was so predictable.

It didn't require Prowl's infamous simulations to know who would emerge victorious. Not only had Arcee won nine of the previous eleven matches, but her supreme agility and gladiator-style techniques also made for some real entertainment. Her two losses were simply flukes, little hiccups that interrupted an otherwise perfect record.

There weren't many backers for the young commander, and some wondered why on Cybertron he was given command of a squad in the first place.

But then they overheard him tell her, «Don't hold back» while walking into the training room and the spectators wondered if Bumblebee _had_ been holding back in previous matches. The femme, to her credit, said nothing but glared at him as they took up their customary positions in the area.

The first few cycles were uneventful. As expected, the femme initiated the match by lunging for the mech, who avoided her at the last klik. Evasive tactics were in play.

Not like that would ever stop Arcee.

She slipped in after a feint and swung her crossbow cannon. He took the hit and staggered back. As she ricocheted off of the impact, she aimed and fired.

Battle mask in place, he braced against the hot blue blast, and slashed through it with his arms. His right arm rapidly transformed and he fired at the femme as she descended. His aim wasn't terrible but she avoided it with a twist of her body, and one of the walls sported a fresh scorch mark.

Arcee was always the aggressor. She fired the cannon before charging in, using the building speed to shove her opponent against the wall. She only allowed him enough time to get back onto his feet before striking again. And while many of the more violent Autobots enjoyed watching her beat upon the hapless other, her suddenly vicious tactics – when did she ever shove her foot in her commander's faceplates? – took even them by surprise.

Just as surprising was Bumblebee's equally aggressive response, absent in previous matches. He wasn't pulling any punches, either, and began hammering dents and scorch marks into Arcee's armor. His cannon was in full play, constantly trying to shoot her out of commission or at least cripple her and he nearly did it when she fired at him before rushing in to batter him with her cannon; he returned fire unexpectedly and it blew her back into the opposite wall.

Long Arm was going to have a fit when he sees the condition of the largest training room in the Decagon.

When Arcee went flying across the room again, the spectators realized that the two Autobots were not playing around, were not training, but were playing for keeps. They were out for each other's Spark, and the Allspark help the Autobot who dared to step in between them to stop the violence.

Then Bumblebee shouldered her aside, and Arcee went sliding across the pitted and battered floor. She was up on her feet in two nanokliks and launching herself at Bumblebee, picking her crossbow cannon up along the way and aiming for his chest. He crossed his forearms in front of the armor protecting his Spark Chamber and braced for impact, but she leaped into the air, drew her legs up, and grabbed a foothold on the forearms to thrust herself upwards. All optics were on her as she aimed, but he fired first, and the cannon fell out of her grasp. It crashed to the floor and tumbled away, its long body sparking, as she landed heavily. Pulling herself together, the femme ignored the useless weapon, rose to her feet, and charged at the mech. A few Autobots caught a glimpse of a row of blades emerging from her left forearm.

Something happened, nobody knew what, it was so fast, but for a klik Arcee was on top again, holding her forearm against Bumblebee's neck armor. Then suddenly he had gained the upper hand; his right arm hung limp and broken, but the armor on his left forearm had extended itself and thin tendrils of blue energy flickered between the two prongs held to her chest. Her left forearm was still pressed against his voice capacitor's shield, but it was over. He had won.

Everyone was stunned silent by the outcome, even the combatants-

«The Allspark be _damned_!» Cliffjumper exclaimed, and suddenly the audience was in an uproar. Words were tossed around, Autobots shouting about how spectacular Arcee was yet again, how shockingly fast Bumblebee gained the upper hand at the last klik, how nobody knew his left forearm concealed a weapon, how the femme always had a trick hiding in her armor, how they couldn't imagine that little Bee could be so _violent_, and nobody noticed the two opponents who had not moved from their positions since, who were locked in a silent but furious staring contest.

Lieutenant Jazz detached himself from the raucous crowd, and the faint but distinct and annoyed fury of Ratchet's vocal processors slowing approaching, and sauntered over to his subordinates.

«Impressive,» he remarked lightly. «You should do this more often.»

* * *

Author's Note: I feel a little rusty with fight scenes. Damn it.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: It was simply not an option.


	13. Disjointed

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The First Set : The Rookie's Tale**

**Log Entry #13:** Disjointed – _It was simply not an option._

The Autobots were unexpectedly resilient. Despite the best efforts of the gladiators and scientists and the vast number of drones, the despicable Autobots still held on. They just wouldn't _die_.

They _should_ die. They were _supposed_ to die. It wasn't so much how the great majority of them were structured, although the Decepticons were truly created for warfare, but what they _believed_. A number of Decepticons were just as irrational, but the Autobots were simply and utterly ridiculous. They held fast to an immaterial dream, an unreasonable idealism that would clearly and surely fail when implemented on a large planet populated with sentient beings, let alone an endless universe.

He prided himself on seeing beyond the sentience gifted to him by the Allspark. Sentience granted him rational thought, which couldn't be said of numerous others, and he did everything in his ability to use it to its full potential. He had no time for the frivolities of sentience's quirky other nature; he saw no use for its insatiable desires and emotions. All that mattered was aiding the inevitable march to a better and more rational universe, obeying the infinite formulas shaping it, and knowing that Lord Megatron's growing hunger for power was excusable while the Autobots' "live and let live" and "freedom for all sentient beings" idealism was not.

There was a law in the universe – the strong survived and the weak died – and Shockwave was going to make sure this law stayed true with the Cybertronians and the civil war. The war was a cleansing, blasting the rust off a dormant race and systematically removing the unworthy from the ranks of those who were supposed to rule. It was obvious the Decepticon mindset was the way to survival and – how he hated this word – their race's _destiny_; why were the Autobots resisting?

Shockwave was not an elite scientist for nothing. He knew the evolution of the Cybertronian race, from the archaic non-transforming infrastructures of the thirteen Senators to the remarkable Triple-Changers. He knew that his former colleague Thunderwing had been the lead researcher on the Allspark's mysterious properties, knew that from what little he gleamed of Thunderwing's research files through the virus in the decoder that Thunderwing discovered _something_ about Cybertronian evolution. Shockwave was no expert on the Cube like Thunderwing was, but his observations of its last creations convinced him that evolution was at work again.

The civil war halted _everything_. Perhaps it wasn't such a useful purging. The Allspark was whisked away by the Autobots into hiding and out of Shockwave's prying optic, leaving him with unanswered questions, incomplete formulas, and untested theories. But that wasn't going to stop him. There were other ways to study evolution. Ways to force it, control it, and create even more powerful Cybertronians.

Failure simply wasn't an option for Shockwave.

Lord Megatron granted him his old home city of Tarn. He had been there for nearly four astro-cycles now, refining the drone mode blueprint and studying regenerative properties in a few samples of metals obtained from other planets before the war.

_That_ was what he reported to Lord Megatron.

From his many memories Shockwave recalled what another head scientist always told him – two minds were always better than one. Shockwave _liked_ to work alone. Always had and always will. He knew his calculations were precise, _perfect_, and that he didn't need a second optic double-checking them. Shockwave did nothing wrong.

Except he didn't get close enough to Thunderwing for them to combine their research on the Allspark and Cybertronian evolution. Except his master plan was refusing to cooperate and his backup plan was a mere theory.

His six subjects didn't volunteer so much as be _selected_ for his master plan. They were tough and hardy types, coming from Kaon and its surrounding states. They held on despite his poking and prodding, his forceful reworking of armor and infrastructure and rerouting of circuits, and his various tests. For all this none of them had any idea what Shockwave was aiming for.

«What on Cybertron are we becoming?» Hook had muttered distastefully as one of the drones worked at the armor plating on his back.

«Like he'll tell us anything,» was the hateful reply from Long Haul.

Low class Decepticons. There was no way they'd understand anything Shockwave would say to them. His theories and plans were beyond their capabilities to understand.

Kliks ago one of his scout drones reported that there was movement in the distant borders of Tarn, an Autobot faction headed straight for Tarn. Shockwave demanded visual and saw exactly _who _was on the way to interrupt his painstaking research.

An Autobot caught his optic. Shockwave ordered the drone to magnify the visual. Supremely satisfied with the opportunity presented to him, he sent orders to the six subjects.

«Scrapper, Bonecrusher, Scavenger, Mixmaster, Hook, and Long Haul, combine. This will be the first real test of your ability to work as one. My scout drone will give you visuals of an Autobot task force coming to investigate our presence in Tarn. You will destroy them, but keep one Autobot alive. I will need him. Long live Lord Megatron.»

* * *

Author's Note: And so ends the First Set. Keep an eye out for all things Shockwave; he's got big moves.

Reviews are deeply appreciated:

Preview: Who will succeed Sentinel Prime?


	14. Past Mistakes

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The Second Set : The Theory of Everything**

**Log Entry #14:** Past Mistakes – _Who will succeed Sentinel Prime?_

«Senators, the general populace is now aware of Sentinel Prime's resignation. By law we have gathered here in the Chamber of the Ancients to decide who will succeed him as the next Prime. We have now seen through the reign of four Primes – Alpha, Vector, Nova, and Sentinel – and it is up to us now to determine how best to use our knowledge and history in searching for the next leader of Cybertron.

«I need not provide a discourse on the reign of Alpha Prime, as we all know of his accomplishments in establishing a fledgling race on this planet. Senator Vector Sigma succeeded him as the next Prime and oversaw our growth as a race, successfully populating the entire planet save the inhabitable Wastelands, but, and I apologize, he was unable to control the increasingly unruly general populace and we were nearly overthrown.

«We had agreed ever since that the Prime should not be one of us but rather a member of the general populace, and therefore created a database to help us select the best possible candidates based on past and present criteria. Given the corruption rife in other branches of the government and the underground cells harvesting our resources and selling them to other planets, we selected a general as the succeeding Prime. And while Nova Prime did an admirable job bringing order to Cybertron, he became increasingly warlike and took the initiative to attack other races and other planets, his only explanation being that we needed to spread out and make our presence known to our galactic neighbors. I apologize for my negativity, Senators Liege Maximo and Jhiaxus, as you served as his general and scientist, but the reality was that he became a threat to our race and existence.

«Nova Prime left on the _Ark I_ with a mixed company of soldiers and scientists to supposedly explore deep space, leaving behind a planet struggling to find its own feet. It is my belief that it was pure luck that led us to the Cybertronian who would be Sentinel Prime. We were able to rebuild Cybertron and then advance on the successes, ushering what we all call the Golden Age. We have not seen conflict for over five hundred astro-cycles.

«Alas, Sentinel Prime had confided in Senator Cohrada the difficulties of ruling a planet that's becoming increasingly prominent on the intergalactic stage. The effort he put into transforming Cybertron from disaster to glory ruined him, and therefore he resigned, leaving us with the task of finding a Cybertronian who would not buckle under the stress and elevate us to the heights of opportunity.

«Chairman Xaaron and Senators Liege Maximo, Jhiaxus, and Ariex consulted one of Nova Cronum's scientists, Thunderwing, about the possibility of manipulating the Allspark and the Creation Matrix into giving us the perfect individual, one with a strong constitution and the ability to rule fairly and firmly. Unfortunately it was deemed impossible, as not even Thunderwing, the planet's foremost authority on our two life sources, could predict when they'd combine to create a Cybertronian. Understanding the Allspark and the Creation Matrix is still beyond us, so we have resorted to the database system but decided to changed the criteria for selecting the candidate.

«We have unanimously agreed to adopt Chairman Xaaron and Senator Liege Maximo's proposal that there be two leaders of Cybertron, not one. They will divide the various duties of the Prime between them while keeping each other's power and authority in check. Since it would displease the great majority of us to call them both Prime, we have created a title for the second position – Lord High Protector.

«We are of the belief that the Prime and the Lord High Protector must come from different backgrounds and training, yet must be familiar enough with each other to be able to work together. At least one must have experience on the field, and one must be proficient with the politics and economics of Cybertron. These are the new criteria for selection of the new Prime and Lord High Protector, and we have been able to narrow down the candidates to a perfect two. They are siblings, one an archivist here in the Stellar Galleries and the other a CSF commander.

«Senators, and the general populace of Cybertron, I propose as our next Prime and new Lord High Protector Optronix and Lieutenant Megatron. They are to be summoned to the Chamber of the Ancients within the next ten megacycles.

«The meeting is adjourned. Blaster, begin the editing process and broadcast the news to Cybertron. Senator Jhiaxus, if I may have a word-»

* * *

Author's Note: Well this was a pain in the ass to write. The Condensed History of Cybertron, if you will. Also, welcome to the second set, where everything's connected.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: Hate is love.


	15. Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The Second Set : The Theory of Everything**

**Log Entry #15:** Happily Ever After – _Hate is love._

Prowl was organizing battle strategies for special squads when Ratchet barged into his office, optics flickering dangerously and a welder spouting sparks from his left arm.

He didn't flinch. «What is it now?»

«What do you _think_?» Ratchet snapped back, waving his arm. Sparks showered all over the floor. «What the _slag_ kind of missions do you send Jazz's team on?»

«Ratchet, either stop waving that welder around or turn it off; the wires might catch on fire. You know Jazz picks his own missions; he's the second lieutenant and he has the right.»

«You're the _first_ lieutenant; tell him to stop trying to get his team _killed_. Every several megacycles the whole lot comes in with their Spark Chambers hanging out of them. They're damn _lucky_ it's Jazz and not some nut job like Impactor leading them! And the Allspark only knows _why_ the Wreckers are still in one piece…»

Prowl tuned the ranting out as he resumed sorting the files into their respective mission folders. He gave up trying to reason with Ratchet long ago; the medical officer was never going to stop as long as he was the one patching up Jazz's tough but sorry looking crew after each of their missions. Ratchet did bring up a valid point about Bluestreak's mental stability after one particularly harrowing "adventure" (Jazz's declaration), but the Autobot seemed well within himself during review and stayed on the team.

It didn't matter anyways; it wasn't Bluestreak Ratchet was complaining about, but rather Jazz's tried and true brawlers who also happened to be among the most notorious Cybertronians on either side of the civil war, and for good reason.

Prowl had his own reasons for keeping Sunstreaker and Sideswipe together. They were annoying, yes; they had various methods of disrupting his work and picking up punishment detail (that Jazz always remedied), and they pulled pranks on every Autobot in Iacon, including the Senators and, once, Optimus Prime (the Prime was not amused).

So why keep them together? They could function separately, and one tended not to create chaos when the other wasn't in the vicinity, so why did Jazz include both of them on his black ops squad and why did Prowl say nothing of it?

* * *

Hound found them, far behind former enemy lines. They had spent cycles searching amongst the debris of the battlefield between the two positions, but never thought that the two Autobots not only broke through the Decepticon ranks but also plunged _very_ deep into enemy ground.

Fact was, it actually wasn't difficult locating Sunstreaker and Sideswipe if one followed by audio processor rather than optic. Their furious voices echoed through the smoke and rubble, and as the rest of the team drew near, the shouting grew increasingly ridiculous.

«-whether you like it or not!»

«Fat chance, bastard! No way I'm leaving; you go!»

«_What_? Look at you, you rusted pile of slag! You've got no arms left!»

«You don't have _feet_!»

«Legs, Sunnyspark, _legs_! Get your facts straight!»

«Like that matters-»

«Of course it matters! You can still run, so go! Get out of here!»

«You stupid glitch, there's no way I'm leaving you here!»

«Oh, so you're going to wait here until some Decepticon wanders over and decides to blow both our heads off? Who's going to carry on our legacy?»

«You! You still have your arms! Go crawl-»

«You call _this_ an arm? Look at it; it's some dead _thing_ hanging off of me! I can't try to knock off a Decepticon with just one functional arm!»

«Blast it to pieces then! I'm defenseless; you're not-»

«You can run!»

«No, I'm _not_-»

«Listen, Sunstreaker, I'm not leaving you here. Look at me; I can't even _move_.»

«Of course you can-»

Lieutenant Jazz decided that _now_ would be a good time to step in and let the twins know that the Autobots had taken over the battlefield and won. His vocal processors made a noise, distracting Sunstreaker and Sideswipe from their argument. They looked around, staring at their roughed up teammates, optics wide in surprise.

«You two figured things out yet?»

«Oh we'll figure things out just fine if someone finds my _arms_!»

«And my legs!»

Shaking his head, Jazz gestured to Wheeljack to assist the incapacitated duo while the others went looking for the missing body parts.

* * *

«Don't you dare try to win me over with a story like that!» Ratchet snapped as soon as Prowl slowly and patiently explained his rationale. «All the arguing in the world isn't going to build up enough "brotherhood" to stop them from trying to kill each other and destroy the entire base!»

«I thought that was Wheeljack's job,» Prowl said wryly as he turned back to sorting data files.

«It is, which is _why_ you need to send one of them down south-»

«Why don't you look at it this way, Ratchet – yes, they're terrible nuisances and they do cause more damage to us than to the Decepticons, but they do their job and they do it _exceptionally_ well. And for all their arguments and shows of hatred they _will_ stick to each other to the very end. You keep them together, you've got an unbeatable team. Does that make sense to you?»

Ratchet frowned, still unconvinced.

«They're your personal nuisances, Ratchet. That has nothing to do with how they perform on the field. That's why they're staying on the black ops team, together, whether you like it or not. But you do have my permission to manually put them in stasis lock if they get too out of hand.»

* * *

Author's Note: This is a weird one, in my opinion, but don't worry – the twins will get more 'screen time' in future oneshots.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: Patience is frustrating.


	16. At Last

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The Second Set : The Theory of Everything**

**Log Entry #16:** At Last – _Patience is frustrating._

«-I thought, it's been over two astrocycles and I've done a pretty good job of keeping myself alive and in on piece, so I thought it would be okay if I-»

«Listen, I know I was the one who offered you a spot on the Wreckers the first time around, but I think that Prowl was right. You weren't ready then and you still aren't.»

His shoulders slumped. «Then when am I ready?»

«Do you know _why_ we're called the Wreckers, Springer? We're the team Optimus Prime calls up when a situation's hopeless. Impossible. Unwinnable. We clean up the mess, do our best to hold back the Decepticons while the others retreat, and fight on even when the battle's already lost. We go in when no one will. You know what happened at the Forbidden Zone – if it weren't for us, the Decepticons would've had the raw materials and we would've been glitched. You're a good soldier, Springer, but you don't have what it takes yet.»

«Well what am I supposed to do? It's not like my squad's particularly special. How can I learn what it takes when my team doesn't do a lot? I bet even Bluestreak can get in because he's on Jazz's black ops-»

«It doesn't matter what team you're on, or who's leading it. A situation will present itself and you will find out whether you really are ready for the Wreckers or not. Just be patient. And lucky.»

Springer watched the scarred Autobot limp away. The Triple-Changer then stared down at the spot where Impactor was standing, and muttered, «Patience is frustrating.»

* * *

Author's Note: Someone called him a 'douchebag', which I find pretty hilarious. And the Wreckers really are a fascinating establishment in the Transformers multiverse.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: And then there were three.


	17. Footsteps

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The Second Set : The Theory of Everything**

**Log Entry #17:** Footsteps – _And then there were three._

«You want me to do _what_?» He stared at them, desperately hoping his audio processors did not hear things correctly.

When they called him up to their office, he was in the middle of sorting through data files Chairman Xaaron sent him. He'd been at it for twenty-two consecutive cycles and while he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was becoming rather tired and stasis was becoming a very tempting alternative to whatever informative lecture they were going to give him. They didn't give him a lecture, though. Instead they told him straight up that he was being shipped to a city down south, and the reason for it was, to him, completely out of line.

«Don't tell me you want me to repeat it,» Megatron snorted, optics glancing at Optimus. «I'm sure _he_ can handle Autobase by himself-»

«No, I think he needs to go there,» Optimus interrupted. «It won't be too hard; you've been training for this for astro-cycles.»

He blinked stupidly at his brothers. Wait…_what_? «But-but nobody told me I was going to take charge of a _city_. I can't just-just walk in and take over an entire metropolis-»

«You're not taking over anything-»

«Not asking you to transform yourself into a dictator-»

«-just because you two said I was 'trained' for it. All I do is organize the files the Senators send me and work the field under Commander Silverbolt! How do I run a city with those non-bureaucratic credentials?»

Megatron groaned, and then composed himself; the imposing Cybertronian said, rather flatly, «Because, dear brother, you're much too good for the snobs here at the Stellar Galleries. You waste your talents following at their rusting heels, instead of bringing a city like Autobase out of decay.» He slowly turned away and walked up to the great glass wall that made up part of the large room, and stared out at the cityscape.

He turned to Optimus, waited for the other brother's reasons. «I know it must be difficult having a Prime and Lord High Protector as brothers, because the average Cybertronian expects so much from you. We thought that this would be the perfect opportunity for you to come into your own, and Autobase is the perfect place to start.»

He had to admit that Optimus got it right every time. On the field, in the Stellar Galleries, at Nova Cronum, deep in various northern districts, he heard those "average" Cybertronians talk about him, about his worth and merit compared to the leaders of Cybertron who were also his siblings. He wouldn't deny that the distasteful words stung his Spark, but he never thought himself as a Cybertronian with a big future in the first place. He was content working for others. He wasn't one to take charge and, as one of their mutual friends would declare, boldly go where no Cybertronian had gone before. That was someone else's task, someone else's lot in life. Not his.

«Of course you won't be doing this alone,» Megatron suddenly added. «You'll be working with someone who's quite familiar with Autobase and the surrounding districts. We really need a close liaison with the southern half of Cybertron.»

So his brothers had planned everything out from the start. They had chosen a place that needed his (mundane) organizational skills and (limited) field experience, and found someone familiar with the region willing to work with him.

«Of course,» and Optimus chuckled, «it took a lot of persuading on our parts to get him to agree to this. He doesn't enjoy being ordered around, so we told him you weren't like one of the Senators.»

And that someone didn't like being told what to do. Why did they pick him in the first place, then? Cybertronians with that kind of attitude usually went into the CSF, or down south, to Kaon or one of the surrounding districts. Autobase, while not exactly up north, wasn't down in the south either.

Maybe that was the point.

If there was one thing he found bothersome, it was this distinction between the north, dominated by Iacon, and the south, characterized by Kaon. It was complicated, it was bothersome, and at times it was messy. He found out firsthand thanks to one of Silverbolt's stints down in Kalis.

His brothers were talking. He should tune in on them.

«…can do this. You know that. If we can do it, why can't he?»

«I still ask myself every time I get out of stasis lock. You're an archivist. I'm a CSF commander. And he's…he's not good at taking the initiative. He doesn't have the confidence.»

«Which is why he's going to Autobase. He can build it up there.»

«Right, that's going to be _so_ helpful.»

«Why are you so cynical?»

«_He_ is not a confidence booster. If anything, he's going to run our little brother down into the ground. I can't believe you decided he was the best co-»

«You said it yourself, he never backs down when the law's on the line. Or was it Silverbolt-»

«It was Silverbolt.»

Gears inside Optimus shifted loudly, annoyed. «We'll give him five megacycles, then. And we'll send Inferno down there, too. How's that-»

«So you think I'm not good enough? Is that why you're sending me down there?» Did his brothers think him some sort of coward? They were discussing _that_ while he was still there?

Megatron tilted his head to the side. «You're going down there because Optimus believes you are the best Cybertronian for the job, and I agree. You'll have a title, too, so everyone knows you mean business. You always mean business, don't you?»

«A title? What title?» Wasn't making up 'Lord High Protector' enough?

«Megatron suggested it and Chairman Xaaron approved of it,» Optimus said dryly. «City Commander Ultra Magnus. How does that sound?»

He had absolutely no idea.

«Just don't run down the others,» Megatron advised. «Not all Cybertronians are sticklers for law and order like you.»

«_Megatron_…»

* * *

They said his co-commander was adverse to taking orders from anybody else, but _this_ he didn't expect.

«Me Grimlock take no orders from you fresh slag,» the very bulky and intimidating Cybertronian declared outright once the jittery new Autobase Security Director Red Alert left the meeting room.

Ultra Magnus shifted from foot to foot, noting that this Grimlock was built like one of the CSF towers – covered with armor upon armor upon armor. Judging from the growling attitude he surmised that it would be a _very _bad idea to provoke Grimlock into some sort of physical rage.

«I'm City Commander here, so I do have the authority…even if you're supposed to be my co-commander…I mean, we should share…you know, the responsibilities…» Already his self-assurance, which he had been building up on his trek down here to Autobase, was dissipating.

«Don't care,» was the gruff reply. «Prime should've assigned _me_, not shiny glitch Cybertronian like you.»

He talked like his Spark or circuitry was scrambled. Maybe both; who knew how he was wired deep within the mass he lugged around. Ultra Magnus fought to keep himself from frowning while he asked himself why he finally agreed to do this.

They thought he wouldn't be able to do this, that his constitution was too weak for the task of rebuilding the rusting cityscape. Ultra Magnus wasn't the most confident character, but on the way down he decided that his brothers had simply tasked him with cleaning up and running Autobase smoothly, and that was the mindset he was going to be functioning on for the following several megacycles.

Ultra Magnus then remembered Grimlock said something not-so-subtly offensive to him, and resigned himself to making a wearisome comeback. «We're partners now, Grimlock. Joint Commanders.» Grimlock snorted. «Give me some respect; I may be the City Commander but I'm not here to take over the city. I'm here to fix it, just like you.»

For the first time since they were introduced by Red Alert and Inferno, who had accompanied Ultra Magnus on his journey south, Grimlock stared at him straight in the optics. Ultra Magnus braced himself.

«You Prime's brother.»

So Grimlock still thought Ultra Magnus was only here because Optimus had the power to assign him anywhere. He sighed as his co-commander walked out of the meeting room, the door sliding shut behind him.

«Never mind.»

* * *

Author's Note: I fell in love with Ultra Magnus the moment I was introduced to the _Robots in Disguise_ version. MINOR EDIT: pretend that all the Senators are genderless. I caught the mistake a little too late, but will eventually switch oneshots to keep consistent with the fact.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: Not all of them see eye to eye.


	18. Whispers in the Night

Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Takara. Any and all creative liberties are by the author, and in no way are connected to The Powers That Be.

Inspired by the LJ prompts.

* * *

**The Second Set : The Theory of Everything**

**Log Entry #18:** Whispers in the Night – _Not all of them see eye to eye._

Almost the entire patrol was in stasis, and he knew it had nothing to do with their energy levels. They were doing this out of spite, and who could blame them? After all they were the ones stuck with the young contradictory Decepticon commander, the one they mocked for being so small, the one they derisively called "Autobot" behind his back…and in his faceplates. Then he'd sink his long fingers in through the cracks and wedges, and tear off their armor plating, insulted into a rage and at the same time desperate to prove them wrong, but the ridicule never stopped.

Frenzy said there was no way he was reaching the top on his own, yet he could find no one who would tolerate him for more than a patrol shift. He was a stranger to the other Decepticons, a new face who was shouldering his way through the ranks from nameless shock trooper to squad commander, an arrogant little glitch who should know better than to try and outcompete the older, more experienced former gladiators turn commanders and lieutenants.

Maybe he should just toss Frenzy into one of the giant tanks at the remains of the hazardous materials treatment plant they were hiding in the shadows of, forget what Starscream did to him at Ky-Alexia, and do whatever on Cybertron he wanted.

He glared down at Frenzy, who tilted its head, chattered at him, turned around, and darted off down the giant pile of rubble to heckle at the resting patrol team. The neutral hadn't been the same since one of the Autobot Aerials nearly crushed it during a battle fifty megacycles ago at the outskirts of the Kalis district. He wasn't sure which Frenzy he hated more – sneaky and smart or sneaky and ridiculous.

Chunks of infrastructure tumbled down the mountain of debris, and Barricade turned around to glare at the disturbance; Flamewar climbed over a broken pipeline and perched on a jagged metal pinnacle at the top of the heap of metals across from him. Red pinpricks glowed down at him.

Unnerving. «What do you want?»

«I'm doing my job,» was the cool reply, «unlike the glitching idiots down there. If the Autobots hit us now, they deserve to get caught.»

She crouched down, the giant cannon in her grips at the ready.

«How good are you with that thing?»

«This? Built it myself. Was a scientist at Nova Cronum – pyrotechnics and engineering. What did you do before the war?»

He hated the question, loathed it with such intensity that his optics fairly sparked red gold. «I did _nothing_.»

«Really? Wasted away those astrocycles doing nothing? How unproductive. What did you do, sit around and watch the stars contract or explode in supernovas while your armor rusted?»

He hated the femme's condescending tone. «Nobody wanted me around; they kicked me from district to district, north to south until I found myself in the middle of an underground arena with some lowlife's head in my hands. What do I owe a planet that didn't care-»

«How long were you a gladiator?»

«Only a few megacycles. Didn't get a chance. Why, what about it?»

«A virtual nobody, and yet in the Decepticons' rough-and-tumble hierarchy you managed to make it to squad commander. I'm impressed.»

'Squad commander' was nothing to be impressed about. Most of the Decepticons were commanders…of Decepticon drones, and that was a necessity. «Nothing's impressive until you get to the top.»

A chunk of concrete tumbled down the hill. Flamewar rose to her feet, shifting her cannon from grip to grip. «_You_ want to reach the top?»

Did she actually ask that? «I thought everyone wanted to reach the top. Am I out of the loop here, just like every other time?»

Flamewar was laughing at him. «It depends on how you get there…and how much you _want_ to get there.»

She was still laughing at him. First a slew of questions and now mockery. Trying to find a toehold, he quickly said, «What do you do for the Decepticons?»

«I engineer weapons of war.» Flamewar tilted her head towards her cannon. «While Shockwave holes himself up in an empty city pretending to research alien metals, I actually put them to practical use. An army is nothing without weapons, and communication lines; Soundwave provides the communication and I help produce the weapons. And if you must know, I'm also a part-time saboteur.»

He glowered at her. «Yeah, whatever.»

A few blissful cycles went by. Then, «So why did you choose the Decepticons?»

_What the-_ «What does it matter to you?»

The femme turned her head towards him slowly. «You had me at 'Nothing's impressive until you get to the top'. Don't recall it?»

Barricade considered leaving the question unanswered, abandoning his self assigned post, and heading downhill to help Frenzy heckle their temporary squad mates. «Word for word. So what?»

Flamewar jumped from place to place down the mountain of debris she was perched on, and strode up to him. One hand on her hip, the other precariously balancing the huge cannon on her shoulder, she looked down at him, optics glowing brightly as she said, «Don't you just hate feeling left out of everything? You nearly lost your life leading the charge that won Ky-Alexia and all the credit went to Lieutenant Starscream. You kept your cool when that Autobot femme disrupted the ranks during the Altihex siege and nearly brought down both Blitzwing and Bonecrusher; they forgot you while promoting both Astrotrain and Sunstorm for finally sweeping the Autobots out of their stronghold. Before the war you were thrown out of almost every district from Iacon all the way down to Kaon; it was CSF Commander Silverbolt who chased you out of every single one of them, too. Didn't think you belonged anywhere, with your temper and roughhousing tendencies. And you thought joining the Decepticons, who were all big brutes, would make you feel like you belonged.»

He told only Lieutenant Soundwave that when he first asked to join the then fledgling Decepticon army. And Frenzy, before it became the epitome of a glitching virus. So how did _she_, a Decepticon he didn't know existed until twenty-two megacycles and three cycles ago, know _that_?

«Soundwave gave me the transcripts,» she said before he could ask. «So what are you going to do, Barricade? Knowing you're nothing like the others, how are you going to climb to the top? And where are you going to stop? You want to reach the lieutenants? Or do you actually dare to-»

Barricade rose to his feet, and the femme was forced to tilt her head up to look into his optics. «Who the _slag_ do you think you are? What's with the questions? Why are you digging into my past? Why do you even _care_?»

Her faceplates were smiling. By the damn Allspark… «Because you're not like us.»

And then she stopped talking. He seriously wanted to fist his hand and dent in her face. At the same time he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she kept talking – what did she mean by that?

«Thunderwing was a scientist at Nova Cronum-»

«What does a traitor have to do-»

«-and I worked with him for several astrocycles – eleven, to be exact. The only thing I ever did was help him put together research files on the advancement of the average mech's internal weapons systems from Vector Prime's reign up to that of Optimus Prime and Lord Megatron, but I also discovered a few incomplete linked files on five Cybertronians and the only one remotely close to completion was on you.»

Now things were way over his head. How did this nonsense go from pointless interrogation to that traitorous Thunderwing? Now wary, he slowly asked, «What did it say?»

Oh how he hated that smile on her faceplates. «He sized you up, asked Ravage to send him video files of your _behavior_ in the various districts you visited. He noted that you were unusually small for a mech and yet very fast like a femme. He was drawing out your infrastructure and adding notes to your bizarre mentality…and he left it off there. What do you think he was talking about, Barricade?»

He was floored. He was just _floored. _Like Flamewar said, he's always been at the receiving end of all sorts of slag and shit, but _what_ by _any_ stretch on _Cybertron_ was this secret file that the absolutely insane Thunderwing kept on _him_? Barricade didn't care how much bigger his opponents – Autobot, Decepticon, Neutral – were or how fast he was compared to them. Mentality? He sure as slag wasn't crazy. All he ever did was survive, and keep surviving.

In the end all he said was, «I don't know.»

«You know Thunderblast?»

Scientists were always bad news. Scientist-saboteurs, which he'd never heard of until now, were freaks. «_What_?»

«The only Triple-Changing femme on Cybertron. That was the only thing he noted in his notes when I found them. The Autobot Bumblebee – nothing, except a statement from Nova Cronum's resident medical mechanic refusing to let Thunderwing anywhere near the little glitch. And Thunderwing never labeled the other two files. The only thing I managed to pick up from all of this was that all three of you are very, _very _young. Might be among the last of the Cybertronians the Allspark created before the war. Now I wouldn't know anything about Cybertronian evolution – that's Thunderwing and Shockwave and a couple other dead scientists – but I know a remarkable weapons system when I see one. Don't kill yourself for the next several astrocycles; I want a good look at you off the battlefield.»

She turned her head away, began to walk off. «If you want their respect, force them to respect you. They value nothing but sheer power and authority. Show them you mean business, throw your weight around to prove your point. You want to know why Blitzwing is so crazy? No, you don't, but I'll tell you anyway – he mocked me and he paid for it with his sanity, and that 'sanity' almost got him killed at Altihex. Now none of the mechs and neutrals even think about crossing my path. You don't mess with a femme who knows what she's doing. Go wake the glitches up; Buzzsaw just spotted a group of Autobots near the broken bridges. I'm going to do some recon.»

The femme strode away, sliding the cannon off her shoulder and hefting it with both hands as she disappeared into the shadow of the plant's skeletal remains. Barricade stared after her for a few kliks before heading downhill towards the other Decepticons.

She was crazy. Thunderwing was crazy. Shockwave was crazy. Blitzwing was crazy. The Allspark was crazy. That talk was crazy. Everything was crazy. And Ky-Alexia, how did she know that? He didn't think someone would sympathize with his forgotten role in the battle, but someone did.

Frenzy, the spindly little silver neutral, bounded up to him as he made his descent, and started jumping around his feet. «I saw, I saw, I saw! She's interested in you, isn't she? Fancy that, somebody doesn't hate Barricade! Hee, hee, I jammed a rod into Octane's gears; let's see him try to get out of stasis now-»

Barricade decided he definitely didn't like sneaky and ridiculous, and kicked the neutral all the way across the clearing down below before continuing to make his way downhill.

* * *

Author's Note: This _glitching_ piece of _slag_ oneshot! Why is it late? Because I couldn't make it _perfect_. I hope this starts explaining Barricade a little more, though. He needs a lot of work.

Reviews are deeply appreciated.

Preview: The theory of everything.


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